Given that the weather reports for Edmonton this weekend are grim grim grim (lows of minus 33, highs of minus 25 -- with wind chills of around minus 35 to 40), I woke up early this morning to get all errands for the weekend out of the way in one fell swoop.
I barely needed a coat this morning as I headed out to my car to embark on my mission. With each passing hour, the thermometer dipped a degree or twelve. By time I was done driving around (and paused to catch a movie at the neighbourhood googolplex), it was chill-lay outside.
I am now snuggly boarded up in my apartment, with no plans to so much as peek my nose out my window until Tuesday (when the temps shall return to a balmy minus 15).
Groceries? Check. Toiletries? Check. Magazines to curl up with? Check. Christmas Presents? Check.
Lessee, I got my father what he's been asking for since I was old enough for him to give me his Christmas wish list:
And I think my mother will enjoy her bungalow by the stream:
For my sister and her partner, I got them the only thing that I know with certainty they shall appreciate:
And, as per my niece's wish list, I cleaned out the store of webkins: ... which means that my present to my brother and his wife will be building an extension onto their home in order to make room for their daughter's new collection:
Okay, so "up" means all 2 foot 4 inches of Christmas tree if one counts the star topper.
I really enjoy turning out the room lights to take pictures of Xmas lights.
Of course, the last time I took such a picture it was of my parents' Xmas tree... (Yes, Santa is riding a tricycle past the front of their tree.)
Shortly after I snapped this picture, one of my parents' man-eating Rottweilers -- I mean Papillons came racing up the stairs from his cushy night-time dent in my mother's comforter to chase me away from the tree. Followed shortly, I'm sorry to say, by my mother wondering why her carnivorous bauble was shattering the silence of her night with its shrill yapping. I denied knowing what the dog's problem was (which philosophically is true, as the creature is a few treats short of a Scooby-snack) and my mom turned sleepily back towards her bedroom ... I suspect figuring she was not in fact awake anyway.
Confident my own apartment was relatively toy-breed-free, I decorated the place, turned off the lights, and snapped my pictures.
(See Puff? He has a place of honour on my bookshelf for the holidays)